


Your Love Is My Drug

by simplymoa



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Brad "Cheeks" Bell RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 21:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4850678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplymoa/pseuds/simplymoa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever wondered how their first night together had been like?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Love Is My Drug

Night after night, it never failed. Brad was there, always there. Not always the same spot, but there nonetheless. All night long, his eyes could not leave the guy, his black hair, his makeup, his body. The way the black leather pants lay on his body, like a second skin, and the way his cock could have easily been traced through the pants, and Brad idly wondered how he could wear anything under them. So yes, if he was going to be there, Brad was too. To anyone in the cabaret, Brad was a mystery too. He never laughed when the crowd did; he never smiled; he never sang along; he just watched the guy on the little stage with intense eyes. If the guy looked hard enough he could catch glimpses of lust, desire and fascination in Brad's eyes. But then again, he really could not be watching Brad throughout the crowd. A glance, now and again was there, while he was busy, trying to project to each and every one of the audience, and then sometimes his glances at Brad lasted longer than they should.

And Brad noticed. He never took his eyes off of him, so he noticed when he looked too long. Their eyes would meet, even if for just a second, and it made Brad's skin burn. He wondered when he would be able to end that addiction. It really was becoming quite a nuisance. He had much more important things to do with his time than spending four to five nights out of the week watching that guy perform. But come seven thirty, each night, Brad would always find himself outside of the same building, dressed in black, never meeting anyone's eyes. He tried to go unnoticed. He wanted to blend in. He knew people were watching him. He felt their eyes when he walked in amongst the crowd. They watched him and probably, he thought, wondered why he was always there.

Brad's friends wondered too. They wondered where he went all those nights when he could have been somewhere else. Out with them, having dinner, working late. Lies, piled upon lies, one story to this person, another story to another person. He wondered when he would get caught. It had to be soon. This had been going on for almost a month. Soon enough someone was going to spot him. He kind of hoped that someone would catch him stalking the guy, so he could stop. But that part of him that picked out that black clothing and hid himself in the crowd never wanted to stop. He never wanted to stop seeing that guy.

It was an addiction. There was no other word for it, and not just any addiction; it was unhealthy and harsh. It made Brad question everything he had ever wanted in the past. Addiction was not, by any means, something new to him. When he wanted something he stopped at nothing to get it. It did not matter how long it took, although the quicker the better, or how hard it was, he always got what he wanted. And then for a few weeks it was the center of his world. He would be filled with a high that nothing else could produce. But it was always the same, it always wore off. Once it did, he would push it away, hide it in a closet, and forget about it. Maybe once in a while, he would find it, whatever it was, again and smile, reminiscing over the past. But it was never the same. Nothing could produce the high that came when he first fell into an addictive state, and that was how he lived, from one high to the next, one addiction to the next. Peace was painful and low. The periods in between addictions were dull and depressing. He was always on the lookout for something new that could make his blood race and his heart beat faster. He was always searching for something else that he could love passionately, something to feed off and absorb until there was nothing left.

But this time had to be the worst. This time it was darker and took a hold of him more powerfully than anything else ever had. That guy made him feel more alive than anything else had in the past. Even the most passionate moments of his life in the past were nothing compared to that guy. But Brad was scared of him too. That's why it was taking so long. True, going to that cabaret every night fed his addiction and kept his blood boiling, but it was not enough this time. He was not content to watch from afar, to listen time and time again to that enchanting voice. He wanted to touch. However, the fear held him back. When it came to his addiction, Brad was dark and mysterious’ full of confidence and passion. But the shyness that, despite his disguise, still lived in him often took over when he was faced with getting too close. All that besides the fact that he knew that if he touched this guy, it would be over. The challenge was gone, the mystery solved, his passion would vanish and fade away, and then he would be on to the next temporary high. It was inevitable, he knew, whether he ever worked up the courage to touch this mystery guy or not. The passion would fade no matter what he did. But this time before he cooled off again, he wanted to burn, and maybe, just maybe, he would arise from his ashes, like a phoenix.

And Brad had tried. But fear always pushed him back before he would get close enough. He didn’t know what to do or how to approach him. He knew that the guy had seen him too. He had seen Brad every night and on those few occasions that their eyes met, there had always been a question there. It was only an instant because the guy could not stop playing the part, but Brad caught it each time it happened.

Tonight would be different, Brad promised himself. He was not going to go. It was enough. He had been there just last night, and the night before that, and two nights prior to that. Cassidy was calling less and less to invite him out, and when he did call, Brad could always hear the concern and the questions in his voice. Cassidy wanted to know if he was OK. He had never turned Cassidy down so much or so often in the past, why now? Because he had to see that guy. Tonight was not different. It was like he could not stop himself from picking up the phone to cancel on his friend. Cassidy was not surprised, but the worry in his tone was increasing. And this time it really started to get to Brad. He had to end this. Now.

As quickly as he could, Brad cleaned his bedroom. He added all the touches that were in his fantasies. The dripping red candles, the plain black sheets, the lube, the condom, the darkness. He put on the outfit he had been waiting to wear. Waiting but dreading. Tonight would be the night he achieved his ultimate goal. It would also be the night he would come crashing down. He shivered when he thought of how bad that low was going to feel. It would probably drain away his energy and leave him depressed and on edge for days. But the high would be worth it. God, would it be worth it.

Ripples of lust ran through him as he slipped on his underwear and took his time stepping into his black leather pants. The sun had almost set and the lights of the city were starting to glow outside his window. In the dimness of his room, Brad stood, naked from the waist up and stared at his body in the mirror. He was glowing. When he shut his eyes, just for an instant, the guy's face flashed in his mind. Brad saw him there, in his bedroom, that cruel, satirical look in his eye, that smirk on his lips, his hands harsh as they tore at his clothes and grasped for his flesh. Brad jumped slightly when he opened his eyes and found himself still alone. His skin burned as if he had been touched, already.

Again, he stared at himself in the mirror and ran his hands through his hair. Slowly, he slid his fingers down his chest, skimming his nipples, brushing his stomach and hips, going lower and under his underwear. Sighing softly, his body ached with disappointment when he removed his hand and finished dressing. Later, he knew it would be better. It would be more. His mystery guy's touch, not his own. Reality, not just a fantasy.

 

***********

 

The eyes were on Brad again when he walked inside. Silent among the crowd around him, he bypassed his normal table in favor of a closer seat and waited. Brad sat perfectly still and stared at the spot where he knew he would first appear from. His skin was tingling in anticipation of what he knew was to come. The minutes passed unbearably slow, making him ache for more, making part of him desperate to leave. But he held fast and stayed.

When he first walked out on the little stage, his eyes immediately darted to where Brad normally sat, and for a moment Brad thought he saw panic in those eyes. Could it be that he had come to rely on Brad being there every night? Could it be that he had felt Brad's eyes watching him and making his body ache? Could it be that he had fantasized about Brad as well? Could it be that he had wondered about Brad and what Brad wanted? Could it be that he was tempted by Brad? Had he been tempted to find Brad, to find out who he was, why he was there every night as well?

The guy did not seem to let his act drop though. He turned, and that was when Brad met those burning blue eyes once more. Brad was sitting at a new table, closer to that small stage, and now from that distance, the guy was even more beautiful. Brad could read those intense eyes, he could see how the guy wanted to dominate him and break his will, knowing well that he could never completely understand or control Brad.

When the time came, the guy did what they had both expected to happen. During one of his performances, he reached out and, this time, amidst all the others that were there, he chose Brad. Nothing could describe the feeling that ran through Brad when their hands touched. Chills ran up and down his spine. Heat burned through his entire being, rushing powerfully to the center of his body and making him ache for more. The guy pulled Brad a bit closer and kept up the act for the audience, but his eyes were all Brad's. They searched Brad deeply for an answer; they promised more if Brad would let himself closer. Brad wanted to drown. He knew it would happen. It would happen tonight. The guy seemed to know it too. Brad saw the lust dancing in those eyes.

By the time he let go of Brad, Brad's cheeks were flushed, his heart was pounding and he was hard with desire. He squirmed in his seat and forced his hands to grip the armrests; else they would take on a mind of their own and wander under the table. It was almost more than he could take when he had to watch the guy grab another man out of the table across from him and grind against him. Brad met the guy's eyes over that man's shoulder and he shivered. They were sparkling with desire; he knew his own eyes had to look the same. It had already started. The guy was playing his part in the game to perfection. The sinister sensuality he projected on stage, in the song and in his voice, was extended to Brad, which was exactly what Brad wanted. He wanted that cunning cruelness mixed with that lustful playfulness that filled his fantasies. He wanted to be cheap. He wanted the guy to use him, and he knew now, from the look in the guy's eyes, he would do it. Brad had successfully seduced the guy into seducing him.

 

***********

Brad waited. Outside, where he knew the guy would be. There were others there, of course. He recognized the piano man, a few of the waitresses and even a few of the customers. Brad could see admiration and excitement in their eyes. A few of them even had that hungry look that he knew was in his own eyes, but not to the same extent. He let them stand ahead of him as he leaned back, quietly, against the brick wall of the building. His heart caught in his throat when the guy finally came outside, and for one tiny moment he wanted to flee. He was scared, true, but he would not let fear stop him. Not this time.

Their eyes met, even as the guy smiled and chatted with his colleagues and the customers. Brad stayed where he was and waited. When the nervous laughter and words of praise finally died down and people finally started to walk away, the guy crossed the small alleyway to where Brad stood and stared into his eyes.

"Where?" the guy asked, his eyes flashing just before his lips brushed against Brad's. Brad could not stop the small moan that escaped his lips. He slid his hand up the guy's chest to the back of his neck, letting his fingers finally touch that dark, thick hair.

"Just come with me," Brad begged desperately. The guy's laugh was low and inviting as his hand pressed into Brad's ass and pulled him up against him so that Brad could feel just how much the guy wanted to devour him. Brad could not stop from shuddering.

 

"You're mine," he whispered into Brad's ear, letting his tongue flicker across the earlobe. Accent and character fully in place, he laughed again when Brad shuddered in obvious pleasure at his words. This was almost too much, but the fog of pleasure, Brad's desire promised was too thick to get through. His eyes begged for the dominance the guy projected on stage, and Brad wanted that person. He wanted what the guy gave: sensuality, lust, a sinister cruelness with just a touch of tenderness, and he would give it to him.

It did not take long to get back to Brad's apartment. Although both of them were slightly nervous, they let the fantasy take over. It was new to both of them, it was dark, it was almost forbidden, and it was probably unhealthy. But none of that mattered.

He whispered words Brad did not even know into Brad's ear as they stumbled up the stairs. His voice was exotic, the words foreign, his touch both rough and gentle, and his eyes burned with lust and mischief. He was Brad's addiction, the person Brad went to see night after night, to revel in his voice, his movements… his persona. They had drawn him in so fast he had never had time to stop and wonder what had happened.

Brad closed his eyes when the guy kissed him and moaned when fingers stumbled across the button of his pants. There was nothing he wanted more than for it to be hard and hot; heavy and fast. He did not let himself think about what it would be like afterwards. The guy would probably leave and he would be left wondering what the hell he had just done. He would probably feel degraded and used. But it did not matter at that moment. He wanted it. He wanted it all. He wanted to be used. By him.

Without another thought, Brad slammed the door to his apartment shut and led the guy to his bedroom. The guy's hands never left him, never stopped touching or groping for bare skin. His voice was in Brad's ear, that voice making him hotter than he had ever been before. Brad broke the guy's touch for only a moment as he lit the red candles and then turned back to face him. The fantasy had to be complete.

And then everything was his. The guy pulled off his shirt, they kicked off their shoes, and Brad tugged his own shirt off. The guy's eyes were glowing with sinister sensuality; his lips were curled up in a smirk when he yanked down Brad's pants. Brad moaned and then bit his lip, wanting to be closer to the guy. Each time he shut his eyes a different place flashed before his eyes. He saw himself somewhere else, as someone else, and he was with him, always with him, always his.

The guy pushed Brad back onto the bed. Brad's skin was white and creamy looking against the black comforter. The guy stripped off the remainder of his clothes and smirked at Brad again. With wanton eyes and a willing body Brad beckoned him closer. He knelt between Brad's legs and yanked off his boxers. Brad licked his lips and reached for him. Their mouths met in a passionate, lusty kiss. The guy took Brad's hands in his and stretched them out over his head, pressing him into the mattress and kissing him deeply. He did not let them breathe; he did not let Brad move. Brad arched his body upwards, felt the guy hard against his stomach, felt his skin burn into his own. He wanted more.

The guy nibbled on his neck, as his hands wondered Brad's soft flesh. Brad whimpered and writhed as hands found his hot spots, as that hot guy murmured what he wanted to do to Brad in that deliciously sinister voice. Never leaving their embrace, the guy reached across the bed to the nightstand and grabbed the lube. Brad scraped his nails down the guy's back and moaned when he felt one and soon a second coated finger pushed inside him. Brad grunted in pain as the guy worked in both fingers. Soon though, Brad was moaning in pleasure again and his cock was jumping every time the guy rotated his fingers inside him and grazed his prostate.

"Oh fuck baby, do that again, please!" Brad begged. The guy smiled, pleased to be called 'baby'. He moaned when Brad's hands on his cock, spreading lube on it, and bringing him dangerously close to his climax. Reluctantly, he pulled Brad's hands away and eagerly positioned himself. Brad drew his knees up to give him better access and ran his hands up the man's arms, "Take me, now. Make me yours."

Brad shoved his fingers into that black hair and kissed the guy roughly, biting his lower lip, devouring his mouth and eagerly drinking his moans. He wrapped his around the guy's waist and pushed his hips upwards, closer to him. The guy slid his arms beneath Brad's back and pulled him closer. In those few moments, everything was real, they were together, and Brad felt like he belonged to that guy, that he was his. That guy gave him just what he wanted, what he had been fantasizing about for years now. He made it rough and cruel, almost sleazy, and yet there was a touch of tenderness and neediness that kept it from feeling too dirty. It was delicious.

It was over too soon, but if it had lasted a second more it would have destroyed Brad. The closer and closer they brought each other to the edge, the more intense it became. And it was quickly crossing the line between fantasy and reality. Brad's grip on what was real and what wasn't was slipping through his fingers. Every word of heated whispers of passion took Brad back on that stage, dancing, singing, lost in that world; a world too alive and provocative. It was alluring, and suddenly Brad was not sure anymore he ever wanted to let go of that guy.

Many long minutes later, Brad felt the guy looking down at him, felt those fingers over his face. The guy's eyes weren't so sinister now and his smile was genuine, not that conniving smirk. Brad swallowed hard as he met those eyes. Surprisingly Brad still found himself drawn to that guy. But the feelings were completely different now. Frightened and confused, he shook his head. He didn't say anything, not wanting to break the spell, but his eyes did look slightly disappointed, only for a moment, before he let the character back in.

Brad lit a cigarette as he watched the guy getting dressed quickly. When the guy was ready to leave, he stared at Brad for only a moment before smirking again. He crossed the room and kissed Brad's forehead, tangling his fingers in Brad's hair for just a second before whispering his goodbye.

As Brad had expected, like always, the guy was leaving left him empty and cold; but unlike any other time, the allure was still there; the addiction was as strong as ever. The end of every other addiction had always been a letdown but this one was different. This time this guy had reached out and touched the thing that had been the brief, shining center of Brad's world, and when he left, to Brad, it seemed like he had taken his energy and his passion with him, but Brad could do this, right? All he had to do was to find something new, right? That was how it always worked. But this time…there was something he couldn't quite figure out about this time.

When he finished his cigarette, he looked down at himself and cringed. He was naked and sweaty, his tender white flesh felt bruised in some places and his hair felt like a mess, his mouth tasted like smoke, and that guy. His body, though still languorous from the fading glow of pleasure, was screaming to be washed. The degrading feeling Brad had wanted so badly just hours ago now left him feeling awful. But still something else lingered. Something he couldn't figure out. He just knew that this, whatever ‘this’ was, had not been part of his plan. And it was only adding to the feelings of loneliness and lowness that were coursing through him. He did not know what to do. He did not know how to make it stop.

The addiction with the guy seemed to be gone, or at least Brad hoped it was. That guy was dangerous. Brad had pulled himself too far in this time and he knew he had a long climb ahead of him, but a new feeling of desire was quickly taking hold of his, even as he stepped beneath the scalding water of the shower, trying to wash away the disgust he felt.

A new desire, a new addiction, someone else, he needed someone else, but what he _wanted_ was the same person, maybe as someone else.  



End file.
